


Memory

by Quill_lumos



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bonding, Explicit Language, M/M, Sexual Content, Slash sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-17
Updated: 2009-03-17
Packaged: 2018-09-30 11:14:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10161947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quill_lumos/pseuds/Quill_lumos
Summary: Summary: Charlie Weasley is used to facing down wild creatures. On holiday from his job, Charlie is persuaded into helping the Malfoy family with their Veela problem. But Charlie Weasley never does anything that he doesn’t want to and he might just have some plans of his own.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

Written for the Do_Me_Veela fest at LJ. Prompt: Memory - the lyrics from Cats. Do with it what you will. For tari_sue - here's the link should you want to read more Veela fic http://community.livejournal.com/do_me_veela/

 

Disclaimer: This piece of art or fiction is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offence is intended. All characters depicted in sexual situations are above the age of consent.

 

Memory

 

“He’s in here,” Lucius Malfoy said. He’d stopped abruptly outside an ornately carved door, so abruptly that Charlie, who was busy staring at the gilded plasterwork which framed the walls, walked right into him. 

Malfoy turned and scowled at him. Charlie scowled back – did the pompous, peroxide git really think he could intimidate a man who dealt with wild beasts on a daily basis? He was trying hard not to be impressed with the opulence of Malfoy Manor. He wouldn’t be impressed, not by these stuck-up bastards. He told himself he was only noticing the sudden contrast between home and the over-stated affluence of the Malfoy’s country home. 

This time last week, he’d still been at the dragon sanctuary; three days back in the country and he’d been pressed into service by his mum’s cousin. Lavinia Prewitt was a healer at St. Mungo’s; one who had been nagging his mother for a number of weeks to contact Charlie on a matter of some urgency: she’d insisted that his help was desperately needed. The only problem being, he’d always disliked the woman intensely, but then so had his mother, which was one reason why she had turned him over to the healer’s tender mercies just as soon as she could upon his return. It was not that Lavinia was a bad or mean woman; she just had a way of ‘guilting’ you into doing exactly what she wanted and she never gave up. In this instance, however, he hoped her persistence would pay off in a big way.

“I don’t know why you contacted St. Mungo’s,” Charlie commented after the man had, once again, turned his attention back to opening the door. “I mean, he’s a Veela…he’s not ill!”

“But he shouldn’t be a Veela. We don’t have any Veela blood in us; we are Malfoys!”

Charlie just raised his eyebrows at the man. Malfoy obviously thought him stupid. Aunt Lavinia had told him that the potions Draco Malfoy had been force-fed by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would only work if the boy had the relevant genes for them to interact with. But if the guy wanted to hang on to his illusions, Charlie frankly didn’t care enough to challenge him. He had his own plans for Draco Malfoy.

“The potions and what they did to him seem to have robbed him of his mind,” complained the senior Malfoy. “He’s not like my son anymore. He sits in that room, by himself, hardly eating or sleeping, not speaking, looking…well, you’ll see. The healers keep saying he’s a Veela and that there is nothing wrong…” the man’s voice broke on the last word. “Please,” he said, turning to look at Charlie with a pleading expression in those cold, silver eyes, “please help my son.”

The man apparently knew nothing about Veela. Draco had obviously transformed into his complete Veela form, in which case he would not be able to speak. The transformation changed the palate and distorted the vocal cords. But it was hardly surprising that the boy had become feral. The Malfoys had locked him away, denied him company and obviously tried to pretend he did not exist to the outside world. Charlie would have been pissed off, too, and he might have done a little more than shred a few curtains and leave some deep scratches in a door, which was apparently the worst damage that Malfoy junior’s tantrums had managed to inflict.

He should have been allowed to be with other Veela. His transformation would almost certainly have been less painful and he probably would have returned to human form long ago. Charlie wondered why the Malfoys hadn’t contacted Fleur; it was the first thing he’d done when asked to take on the assignment. But it seemed they hadn’t thought or made plans, they’d simply panicked and locked their son away in a mistaken attempt to keep him safe and, presumably, well hidden. 

Charlie considered it a travesty and a terrible waste. He felt something he never would have thought that he could feel for a Malfoy - pity. He supposed that if you were bigoted and prejudiced yourselves, you just assumed the rest of the world was the same. The family’s fear of what ‘might’ befall Draco, once he was revealed as a Veela, was probably far greater than what ‘would’ have actually happened. Veela were very well respected, after all – at least by all but a very few old families, highly prejudiced families, including the Malfoys it seemed.

When he agreed to come evaluate the situation he’d done so with no idea how he was going to help Lucius’ scion. Lavinia told him the boy had become little more than an animal, untamed, a feral beast, and seemingly unable to return to human form. In addition, she explained that, because Charlie knew a lot about handling untamed, feral beasts, and knew quite a lot about Veela, he seemed the best man for the job. That was also, apparently, the reason why she had put so much pressure on Molly to enlist his help.

Armed with this small amount of knowledge, he had contacted Fleur and done a fair amount of research. Now he had several ideas and a plan on how to proceed, ideas he was not going to share with Lucius Malfoy.

He took a deep breath, met the man’s eyes again and nodded, once.

 

_Memory  
All alone in the moonlight_

 

Only six o’clock and it was dark already. But the moon was up, this close to mid-winter it rose early. It was the only illumination in the room. Charlie entered alone. A crouching figure on the floor in front of him turned at the disturbance and, although he could not see any details, he knew he was being watched. The tension in the room was palpable

Charlie crouched, too. Now he could see the Veela’s silhouette clearly. The moonlight highlighted the beak and the graceful arc of the wings, which trembled slightly with fear or trepidation. The boy didn’t make a sound and Charlie refrained from speaking, as well; he simply sat down in the centre of the floor and waited in silence. 

This was his usual method of dealing with wounded or frightened animals, and it seemed that was exactly what Draco Malfoy had become.

 

_I can smile at the old days  
I was beautiful then_

 

It was some time later that Charlie’s limbs began to cramp and he chanced moving his legs to relieve the pain. He looked away from the Veela for the first time since he’d entered the room. When he looked up again the creature was right beside him. It took all of Charlie’s courage not to yell out in fright. He looked up into wide, grey eyes, eyes that seemed filled with sorrow but, at the same time, with intense curiosity.

Charlie could see the boy clearly now, see the large beak that distorted his face, the soft hair, which had grown unkempt and stringy, the scaly pattern that seemed to disfigure his skin. Charlie had seen recent, pre-transformation photos of the Malfoy heir (multiple photos, actually, lining the walls of the study downstairs), photos showing a good-looking blond boy, with slightly pointed features and haunting grey eyes. He well remembered (and, in fact, had never forgotten) the boy himself, from Harry and Ron’s fourth year at Hogwarts. He’d been very handsome before his enforced transformation; indeed, Charlie still thought him rather magnificent, transformation and all. It was fairly obvious, though, that Draco did not think so, not from the way he was holding himself, hunched and shy as if he were ashamed of how he looked. 

 

_I remember, the time I knew what happiness was  
Let the memory live again_

 

Charlie could feel warm breath on his cheek, feel the Veela’s talons brush through his curls. Somehow Charlie managed not to gasp or yell. He surreptitiously took a deep breath and smiled.

Draco Malfoy made a strange cooing noise and tilted his head to one side. It took all of Charlie’s courage not to flinch when the Veela reached out a clawed hand and stroked Charlie’s cheek.

“Trrooo?”

“Hello, sweetheart,” Charlie kept his voice soft and gentle, making sure to meet the Veela’s gaze and hold it. “Well done, you came to see me.” Lucius Malfoy had informed Charlie that his son had been unreachable for several weeks, no one could get anywhere near him, no-one except one small house-elf who took him his food. 

It now seemed obvious to Charlie that no one had truly tried to help the creature. They’d probably been too scared of Draco’s Veela strength and uncertain of how to deal with his anger. Charlie thought it wasn’t surprising the poor thing had been angry. Here he was, hidden away because his parents were ashamed, not really understanding what was happening to him, having to deal with everything by himself, alone and frightened.

The Veela took Charlie’s hand in his own, clawed one and tugged gently, pulling the dragon-tamer to his feet. He trilled again and turned as if to lead Charlie somewhere else, and Charlie let himself be led. Draco pulled him towards the corner of what was turning out to be an enormous room, where there seemed to be a pile of cushions and blankets. The Veela had made a sort of nest from what he could salvage when they took the furniture away for fear he would break it.

“Oh, sweetheart!” Charlie whispered sadly, his heart aching for how lonely the poor creature must have been. The room was huge, far larger than any room at the burrow, larger than any room Charlie had ever been in – outside of Hogwarts, that is. The room had gracious tall windows all along one wall. Charlie thought they were probably Georgian; he speculated that most of the building was from that period, but he really didn’t know much about architecture. The windows allowed the moonlight to flood in, illuminating deep scratch-marks gouged into the pale flooring and walls. Charlie decided these desperate marks were the saddest part of this whole situation; to him they represented echoes of despair.

Draco was shuffling ahead of him, still half crouched, pulling him along, taking him back to the corner where he’d made his den. He progressed slowly, clearly unbalanced by the huge wings on his back, and yet he held Charlie’s hand gently so as not to hurt the man as he led them to their destination.

“Hey,” Charlie said pulling back just a little. The Veela stopped and looked back at him quizzically, head cocked to one side, more bird-like than ever. “Wait a second, beautiful. Hang on a mo.”

Draco trilled again.

“You need to stand-up straight, gorgeous. You need to be proud of what you are. You _are_ gorgeous, you know.” 

The Veela looked away and peered up at Charlie from the corner of his eyes. He still could not speak but his movements, his expressions were so very eloquent and those eyes…huge silver-grey eyes full of tears.

“You are beautiful. They were wrong to lock you away, your mum and dad.” 

Draco shook his head and tried to pull back from him.

“Oh, no you don’t! You need to be proud of what you are, Draco.”

More silent tears fell and Draco shook his head.

“Beautiful, Draco. I…think…you…are…beautiful.” Charlie spoke slowly, emphasising every word.

The Veela stopped struggling; his struggles had been very weak, anyway. Charlie didn’t think he’d been trying very hard. Male Veela were phenomenally strong and if Draco had wanted to over-power him, he would not have stood a chance. Charlie seemed to have won this round, and with it, perhaps, the young Veela’s trust.

“Come on,” Charlie commanded firmly but kindly, “stand up straight and strong.” He moved around so he was standing in front of the Veela and he took both of Draco’s clawed hands into his own. But Draco just stood there, staring at the ground, chin tucked against his chest. “Look at me, Draco,” Charlie insisted.

Draco made a sound like a strangled sob but he did as Charlie told him. Keeping his gaze very steady Charlie looked into the huge, glistening eyes brimming over with tears. Softly but confidently, he began to speak.

“We are going to go and sit in your corner; and if we sit quietly together for a while, I think, after a time, you will return to your human form. Then you’ll be able to speak again and tell everyone what you want; you’ll get out of here and get your life back. You want that, don’t you?”

For a moment Draco didn’t move. Charlie could hear his own heart beating – it seemed to thunder in his ears. Finally, finally, Draco nodded.

Charlie smiled. “Good boy. Right, beautiful, I want you to put your shoulders back and your chin up.”

Draco was looking at him again. The large beak that distorted his features prevented Charlie from discerning any facial expression, but his eyes…his eyes said everything Draco might wish to say: they shone with trust and hopefulness. Suddenly, the Veela did as Charlie asked. He put his shoulders back and, Charlie suspected, stood up straight, possibly for the first time since his transformation. 

Charlie’s smile widened. “Clever boy!” 

Together they walked across the room, hand-in-hand, until they got to the Veela’s nest. Then Draco took charge. He knelt down and patted the pillows of his make-shift bed in a clear invitation, gently tugging at Charlie’s hand as he did so, all the while cooing softly.

Charlie allowed himself to be pulled down. This was much more comfortable. Draco was still cooing, patting Charlie’s cheek and stroking his hair. Charlie smiled again and made himself at home in Draco’s nest of pillows.

 

_Touch me_  
It's so easy to leave me  
All alone with the memory  
Of my days in the sun 

 

Charlie must have slept because when he awoke a naked and breathtakingly beautiful young man was sprawled across his chest – yes, thought Charlie, Draco was a man now and a boy no longer. The wings were gone and the beak had vanished. The man’s features were still a little pointed, but Charlie didn’t think he had seen anyone more exquisite in all his life. For what seemed like hours, he simply lay there, cocooned by Draco’s pillows and blankets, gently stroking the pale, silken hair. He watched the Veela’s eyelids flickering in REM sleep. He ran a tentative finger along the soft downy cheek, watched the man’s lips curl in a sweet smile and ached to place a kiss on those lips.

The eyelids were flickering more rapidly now and, all at once, the eyes were open and gazing directly and somewhat confusedly into Charlie’s.

“Hello, beautiful,” he whispered.

Draco gasped and sat up. “I’m human!” he croaked, obviously astonished, his voice rusty with disuse.

Charlie grinned.

“Welcome back,” he said.

Draco squeaked, “I’m naked.”

Finding himself unable to resist, Charlie replied with Weasley good humour, “Don’t worry on my account. I’m rather enjoying the view.”

The transformed Malfoy scowled at him and started to rummage around in the pile of pillows and blankets until he found a sheet that wasn’t too badly torn and wrapped it around his waist. Then he turned around to sneer at Charlie.

“You’re a Weasley, aren’t you?” 

Charlie’s grin grew wider.

Draco took that for assent because he continued, “Well, Weasley, thank you for helping me. You can leave now; you’ve done your job. I am back to my usual self. I’m sure that Father and Mother will be delighted; they’ll undoubtedly pay you well.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Malfoy,” said Charlie with infinite patience. “It’s the wee small hours of the morning. It’ll be dawn soon and the door is under a locking spell till then; apparently you were at your very worst at night.”

Malfoy narrowed his eyes and stared hard at Charlie.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You have your wand; you can get us out of here whenever you want to. Not only will my parents reward you for helping me to transform, but I am not without funds, myself. What would you like? A new broom? Some clothes that you can wear without being ashamed of them? Some shoes without holes in the soles?” 

Charlie, threw back his head and laughed.

Draco scowled at him.

“I think you are confusing me with my little brother. You always did manage to rile him, I believe. I’m much harder work, my pretty one, and I’m not interested in your taunts or your money, come to that.”

Draco’s eyes widened. Charlie thought he looked totally ridiculous and somewhat adorable sitting in his nest of bedding, wearing nothing but a tattered sheet and trying to gather his dignity about him. He leaned over and kissed Draco gently on the nose.

Draco’s eyes grew impossibly wider and he scooted back, trying to get as far away from Charlie as he could and yet still manage to stay in his nest.

“You kissed me!” he breathed, bringing his hand to his nose in order to touch the spot where Charlie had laid his kiss.”

“I did,” said Charlie pleasantly.

“But why?” 

Charlie had to fight to keep from smiling again. He thought Draco was delightful and far more innocent than he’d ever imagined he could be.

“Because I can’t resist you. You’re gorgeous! Do you remember me telling you that before?”

Draco narrowed his eyes again and peered at Charlie suspiciously, as if trying to decide something. Finally, he nodded. “Why do I feel drawn to you? You’re a Weasley.”

Charlie chuckled. “I am that. But my first name’s Charlie. Charlus really, but nobody calls me by that name. As to why you’re drawn to me? I suspect that we’ve begun to form a bond; it’s why I’m drawn to you, too, I think.

“But why would we form a bond?” The blond was shivering a little. The large room wasn’t cold, but perhaps if you were naked, it might seem so. It hadn’t seemed to bother Draco when he was in his Veela form, but now, pale and semi-nude and all too human in appearance, he was obviously cold.

“Look, do you want a hug?” Charlie asked kindly and with apparent concern. 

Draco shrugged and bit his lip. He looked so endearing that Charlie couldn’t resist kissing him once more.

“You keep kissing me.”

“I know,” Charlie said, unable to suppress a big grin. “I can’t help myself. You are just so freaking gorgeous, and now, I’m going to kiss you again.”

Charlie crawled closer to where the blond man was steadily shuffling backwards, dragging his meagre covering with him. Charlie grabbed one corner and gently pulled the sheet away. Draco gasped but didn’t protest. Charlie could see the other man’s cock, hard and needy. Charlie wasn’t sure what forces were at work here, but it seemed the blond Veela was as attracted to Charlie as Charlie was to him. Draco was on his back, propped up on his elbows, legs spread wide in unconscious invitation, so Charlie bent down and took the offering into his mouth and sucked at the tip. Draco groaned and arched up into Charlie’s ministrations. Charlie pulled back a little and ran his tongue along the underside of the cock. Draco whimpered. 

“I want you,” Charlie growled, suddenly desperate with need. “I really, really want you. Can I have you, Draco?”

“Please,” Draco begged, “please!” He grabbed at Charlie’s shirt and pulled the redhead down on top of him. 

Charlie came from a large family, when he was offered something as delicious as the feast spread beneath him he was going to dive in enthusiastically before someone else got there first. He kissed the sexy blond, claiming his mouth, tasting those sweet lips, and in an instant Draco kissed him back. Charlie tore at his shirt, wanting it open, wanting to feel the other man’s skin against his own. Draco was naked, his flesh heated with his desire. Pale, slim fingers aided Charlie in tearing his shirt open, then stroked Charlie’s own super-heated skin and snaked from his navel, along his happy trail, to the hard, metal button that prevented Charlie’s jeans from bursting open. Draco’s dexterous fingers aided Charlie’s desperate ones and soon his straining cock was freed from restraint.

Draco spread his legs and arched upwards again, offering himself, his most private place, to Charlie. Charlie was overwhelmed; he’d never felt like this before, so desperate for sex, so desperate to be close to someone, inside someone. But he had to be sure that Draco wanted this too.

“Do you want me, Draco?”

“Yes. Oh, please, yes. Please, Weasley.”

“Charlie, call me Charlie.”

“Charlie.” Draco’s voice was strained, choked with desire. “Oh, please, Charlie.”

Charlie was desperate. He so wanted to be inside the blond, but he wasn’t lubricated; he couldn’t, he wouldn’t, hurt his Veela.

He groaned and leaned his forehead on Draco’s chest. He felt like he was burning up, consumed by desire.

“No lube. Can’t hurt you,” Charlie gasped tightly.

“Butter,” whimpered a desperate Draco, squirming beneath Charlie to the point that the dragon-tamer almost came then and there.

“Wha…what?” Charlie tried to still his breathing, tried to prevent his orgasm.

“Use the fucking butter!” Draco hissed. 

Charlie sat up and looked around. To one side of the bedding nest was a tray containing the remains of left over food, bread and chicken shredded to almost nothing, and next to that was a dish filled with butter that had deeply carved indentations running through it. It had softened in the relative warmth of the room Draco had been confined in for so long. Charlie scooped some of the gloopy, yellow stuff onto his fingers and then allowed his fingers to seek out Draco’s anus. He inserted one finger inside the tight, hot hole and Draco whimpered again.

Charlie felt like whimpering too. His cock was throbbing and he felt like one touch, one tiny touch, would make him explode. 

Two fingers pushed deeper inside Draco, three loosened him more.

“Get the fuck on with it!” Draco breathed, still squirming beneath Charlie, panting, keening with need.

Charlie dipped into the butter-dish once more and this time covered his own cock with the creamy, oily stuff. Draco arched up again and spread his legs even wider. Charlie scooted closer and pushed inside the tight hotness of the man beneath him.

Draco screamed and threw his head backwards, exposing a long, pale throat. His slender body arched up, impaling himself on Charlie’s throbbing member. Charlie was forced deeper inside the blond Veela. It was overwhelming, being inside the young man, like being tightly wrapped in hot, silky velvet. His orgasm was building, like a volcano getting ready to explode. He was trembling, shaking with desire, tingling all over. 

“I can’t…” Charlie gritted his teeth, threw his own head back. He grabbed the rock hard cock bobbing in front of him, fingers still coated with slick butter, and pulled gently. Whimpering with need Draco began wildly thrusting upwards into the fingers that were stroking him, and then, with a sudden shout, he was pumping pearly white streams of come into Charlie’s hand. The combination of the Veela’s sweet little sounds, the writhing of his naked body, and the fact Charlie was gripped inside that gorgeous hotness, was finally too much and Charlie was coming too. His orgasm seemed to go on for hours as he screamed his completion.

 

_If you touch me  
You'll understand what happiness is._

 

Covered by a larger, less tattered sheet, the two lovers were lying amongst the pillows wrapped around each other, Draco fitting perfectly into Charlie’s arms. 

“What just happened?” a stunned Veela finally asked. “I…I’ve never felt anything like this before. It was like a compulsion. I had to have you inside me.”

“And I had to be inside you.”

“Do…do you think we’re bonded?” Draco sounded so young and uncertain.

“I do.” Charlie answered simply.

Draco tensed. “Well, fuck. What the hell am I going to do?”

“You’re mine now,” Charlie told him, placing a kiss on Draco’s head. “I’ll look after you.”

Draco sat up, pulling away from Charlie’s embrace, the sheet slipping off his shoulder. Charlie wondered what the skin tasted like just there.

The Veela tilted his chin in an attempt to look haughty, but Charlie could still read his thoughts in his eyes; there was fear reflected in their silver-grey depths.

“But I’m a Malfoy! I have to marry and continue my family line. I can’t run away with a Weasley.”

“You’re not running anywhere.” Charlie felt very possessive. “You’re mine, remember. I’m taking you.”

“You won’t get my money,” Draco sneered, haughty once more. “My father will have tied my inheritance up so tightly…you’ll never be able to access it.”

“I don’t care,” Charlie said, feeling bewildered. “I’m not interested in your money; it’s you I want. Anyway, there’s nowhere to spend money on a dragon reserve in Romania.”

“Romania?” Draco squeaked.

“You’ll like it there – lots of wide open skies, plenty of space to fly free.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you, Weasley,” exclaimed a slightly panicky Draco.

Charlie sat up now, snaking an arm around Draco’s neck and pulling him close. “How much do you know about Veela?”

Draco shrugged, he wouldn’t look at Charlie, but he didn’t pull away. “I read a little about them, before I…I…erm…transformed.”

Charlie pulled him closer, so that Draco’s head was tucked beneath his chin. The other man remained stiff and unyielding but, again, he didn’t pull away.

“Voldemort,” (since Harry had killed the Dark wizard, no one had a problem naming him freely) “force-fed you a potion, which transformed you slowly over many months – atom-by-atom…gene-by-gene. The final transformation, though, was rapid and once that happened your parents panicked and wouldn’t go near you. They locked you up alone in this room. Naturally, you freaked out. You became wild and uncontrollable.”

Draco didn’t move, it was like every inch of him was listening to Charlie’s words. Charlie could feel the young man’s breath against his chest, could feel his eyelashes as he blinked. He so wanted to kiss him again; he felt impossibly tender towards the Veela. His Veela. But first, he had to tell Draco everything that he knew.

“Your family tried to hide you away, tried to deny what you were becoming. But Voldemort did his research with extreme thoroughness...and do you know what he found? He found that the Malfoys have a lot of veela genes, plenty for his needs, anyway. You, my love, inherited them from both parents, who inherited them from a long line of descendents all the way back to a pure Veela strain some hundred or so years ago.” 

Draco began to shake his head with patent disbelief. 

“Yeah, you did.” Charlie cupped the man’s cheek, buried his fingers in Draco’s soft, silky hair. “I did my research, too. That’s why I came, why I took this assignment. The only human person who is truly safe near a fully transformed, unattached Veela is an unattached potential mate.”

Now Draco did pull away so he could study Charlie’s face, his eyes were wide with astonishment. “You knew we might bond?”

“I hoped we might.”

“Does my father know?”

Charlie smiled. “Nah, he thinks I’m just a dragon tamer, that I soothe savage beasts.”

Draco blushed. “You…erm…you certainly soothed me.”

Charlie kissed his forehead again.

“I did, and now I’m keeping you. Forever.”

“Father didn’t realise that?”

“He might have done, if he’d done his research.”

Draco snorted. “Father doesn’t research, he has other people do that for him. I can’t believe that he’d have let you near me if he’d realised you were going to claim me.”

“I thought not.”

“That’s practically Slytherin!” Draco’s voice was tinged with admiration

Charlie smirked.

“It was very Gryffindor to face a savage beast on the off-chance that I might be compatible with him.”

Draco blushed again. “Was I very hideous?”

“You were…are…far more beautiful than I can ever say.”

Draco’s eyes filled with tears. “They’ll never let me go.”

“They don’t have a choice. We bonded, remember? They can’t interfere.”

“But I told you, they’ll stop my inheritance; we’ll have no money, nothing at all.”

“And I told you, Draco, I don’t care about money. I was never interested in your inheritance or this house or your bloody name, for that matter. I just wanted you.”

Draco’s lower lip trembled. “You wanted me?”

Charlie smiled, tenderly and wiped away a tear, which had escaped from sparkling grey eyes that were once again brimming with emotion.

“Oh, yes.” Charlie’s voice was soft and filled with emotion, too.

Draco’s eyes glistened ever more brightly. “But why me?”

Charlie smiled again. “Even before your forced transformation there was something about you, Draco…something, I found very desirable. I saw you at Hogwarts, you know, fourth year, when I was there for a while. I could never quite get you out of my mind. This little incident gave me the chance to steal you away, right under your parent’s noses.”

“I remember you.” Draco blushed once more.

Charlie’s smile turned a little smug.

“So what now?” Draco finally asked.

“Now we wait. It’ll be morning soon and the door will open and we can leave.”

“For Romania?”

“For wherever we want to go, together. Besides, I don’t think your parents will disown you. I think they love you and will want to see you happy. I promise I’ll do my very best to make you happy, Draco, always.”

Draco smiled shyly and then he shivered.

Charlie looked concerned, “Are you cold, baby?”

The Veela nodded.

Charlie wrapped a blanket around them, then pulled Draco closer and held him in a tight embrace as, together, they sank down into the soft pillows.

Almost imperceptibly, the sky lightened and the horizon outside the Wiltshire mansion was tinged with the pink tendrils of morning.

Draco felt warm and weighty in Charlie’s arms. This whole adventure had been such a gamble on Charlie’s part. It could so easily have gone wrong. But Charlie was so very tired of being lonely, and having his own Veela had seemed the ideal solution. He’d had ordinary relationships and they had never worked for long, Charlie needed adventure, he needed passion and he suspected that he would get them both with Draco Malfoy. He’d never been able to forget the boy, anyway. And now, after spending the night with the Veela, in all his forms, he believed he had somehow actually fallen in love.

He promised himself that he would always take care of Draco, now that he’d won his prize, now that he finally had someone of his very own.

Draco turned his head and placed a gentle kiss on Charlie’s pectoral muscle. 

Charlie smiled broadly; it seemed Draco might possibly feel the same about him.

The pinkness tingeing the horizon grew ever brighter; dawn was breaking.

“Look, Draco,” Charlie said. “It’s morning, we’ll be able to leave soon, _a new day has begun.”_


End file.
